Sunday, January 17, 2010

Sleeping Pills or New York, NY

Right now I feel as if I downed a bottle of Nyquil, chased it with a bottle of vodka, and then topped it off with a hand full of valium.

Holy Spaced Out Batman.

Last night, I had one of those NYC moments. I started off the evening at the fucking fantastic 48 Lounge in the McGraw-Hill Building on 48th Street between 6th and 7th avenues. This upscale lounge caters to the corporate crowd during the week and the show goers in the evenings and on the weekends. It is right in the heart of the Theater District, and it is conveniently located right off of several major train lines. The decor is chic and there is a breathtaking giant photo of a rock formation from the Arizona desert that dominates the back wall of the lounge. The ceiling in the VIP/bottle service area features lighting that mimics a constellation in the shape of an infinity symbol. The music was a PERFECT blend of some of the best music from the1980s-today with remixes of Susanne Vega, Michael Jackson, Sade, and others. There wasn't a single song that came on that I didn't love. Check out 48 Lounge, but be prepared...the drinks are flawless but they come witha hefty price tag.

I met my friend, Jamila Anderson, another Minnesota ex-pat living in NYC for drinks. Jamila is one of the most brilliant actors I know. She also has a soulful voice and is working on some big things, so you all should keep her name in mind. So Jamila and I met at the 48 Lounge, which is being managed by my friend Jason. We chilled, talked about boys and dick, and had an all around great time. Jason checked in on us and made sure we had impeccable service, plus he ain't hard on the eyes himself.

My plan was to have a few drinks with Jamila and head home but NYC had a different plan for my behind. While we were sitting there, my girls Shelley and Lisa texted Jason, as they may all become roommates together, and my two favorite sorority girls popped up from the Lower East Side and met us from an end of the evening drink. Then, my friend Karlo called and said that he was going out with a friend from LA, and he swung by and picked me up.

Good lord. I meant to be home by Midnight, but I stumbled in the door around 6:30am. We ended up going to two more bars last evening for a grand total of three.

Now don't let the gays fool you. We can get just as rowdy at a bar as our straight counterparts. We just look better when we do it. While we were at Barracuda, a friend of one of Karlo's friends, said something to a porn star that really pissed off the porn star and the porn star's man. Not sure what was said, but that 7' tall power bottom looked like he was about to lay a hurting on the black queen that was Karlo's friend Scott's friend. And when voices get loud, my PTSD kicks in, and I gots ta go.

That situation, having simmered down, was replaced by Armahn getting into a row with one of the servers at Barracuda. Things got real tense for a moment when the bouncer was brought in. I was all ready to believe that the server was being a major diva, but she was nice to me, so I downgraded her from Super Bitch to Stressed Waiter, which comes with certain allowances.

I was so wired and jacked up from such a fun night that I absolutely could NOT sleep. I laid in bed begging the Sandman to swing by and punch me in the face, but he refused to cooperate. Finally around 7:30, I got up and took two Tylenol PM, but my body refused to process the damn drugs. Finally, around 10:30, after eating a bowl of spaghetti and downing two more "sleepies," I passed out until 2:00pm.

Let it be a lesson to you all that trying to shut down your bodies manic energy with four Tylenol PM ain't cute. I didn't want to while away my whole day in a chemically induced coma, so I forced myself to get up and make out with my dog a little bit (and David too). But when those damn little pills say allow for 8 hours of sleep, they are not lying. My eyes keep unfocusing while I type this, and I am about to run outside, butt naked, to try and wake myself up.

In the end, it was an awesome NYC night. There are very few places where you can have a such a night. And where else can you start the night with an actor/hip-hop artist and end it with two high end make-up artists and a former Associate Director of the Ice Capades. Only in the Big Apple. New York....I got to be a part of it!

My Feet Only Walk Forward

A Bit Of Me in Ones and Zeroes

Named February 2011's Bad-Ass Feminist of the Month by NotYourAverageFeminist.com, BLC is also a poet, playwright, journalist,amateur chef and life commentator doing his bit to put his foot in the asses of the regressive masses, while putting filling and nutritious food on plates of folks that ain't got much and deserve better. And, thank you to MyLatinVoice.Com which named me the #2 Queer Latin@ Blogger on the web for my blog My Feet Only Walk Forward: www.myfeetonlywalkforward.blogspot.com

Photo Credits and Copyright

All written material found on this blog whether blog entries, poetry, or insane rantings are wholly owned and copyrighted by William Brandon Lacy unless otherwise acknowledged in the body of the text. Please feel free to repost my work as long as you are willing to credit the author (unless of course you are a for profit entity...then you best to be PAYING the author before you use my writing...don't make me get you).

As for the photos and artwork...all artwork is credit to the artist...which right now is just David Berube. Most of the photos on this site are taken by me or by David Berube...though some are pulled directly from the web. The background photo on this blog was taken by yk hong (love you!). The logo at the top of the page was designed by Catherine Womack. If you own an image that you find on this site and are unwilling to let me use it...please let me know, and I will take it down post haste.